This is my submission for Geek Pride Day 2018. This version as been edited for your viewing pleasure. Thanks for reading!
***
The electric hum at Public Static Void resonated within Rayce as soon as he walked inside. No matter how long he stayed away, the Void was always the same when he came back. The same handful of regulars staring blearily into whatever digital fantasy they were immersed in; the same muscle-grafted guys hitting on the same genetically-altered women; the same stench of humanity steeped in alcohol and despair. He didn't even have to place an order- the barkeep Jazmine walked over with a pint glass in hand.
Home, sweet home.
"Hey, Rayce! I was startin' to think you'd found another bartender to flirt with," she said, leaning over so he could get a better look down her blouse.
"Don't worry, Jazmine, you're still my favorite cocktease this side of Phantasy," he assured her, flashing a crooked grin before taking a swig. "And you still serve the least watered-down ale, too."
"Just get back from a job?"
"Yep."
"Hope you got paid well, cause you look like shit."
"Thanks."
Rayce had told himself he'd stop working for NeuroStim, but when he saw how much they were offering, he couldn't help himself. When he'd worked for IllumiGen, they'd kept him pumped him full of high-grade nootropics so his mind ran like a bullet train, winding through matrices and constructing algorithms with serpentine agility. Nothing he could buy on the street compared to the real thing.
Everything was brighter on NeuroStim. So shiny and reflective that colors bounced off each other.
Ideas
bounced off each other, materializing from nowhere and manifesting into brilliance. The ugly became beautiful, the beautiful pure light.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to pace himself, he was already out.
"Well I'm glad you made it back. Thought you might be in trouble."
"No more so than usual. Why?"
"Someone's been asking about you. Corporate henchman, from the looks of him."
"What did ya tell him?"
"I just played dumb. Not that hard for me," the busty redhead said with a wink. A lot of men underestimated her because of her looks, but Rayce wasn't one of them.
"Thanks, Jaz," he said with a chuckle, sliding a bill across the bar, which soon vanished into the depths of her cleavage.
"Don't mention it, honey."
"Did he said what he wanted?" Rayce asked.
"No, but I assume it wasn't to kill you."
"Oh? That's awfully optimistic."
"Well, I figured if it was, you'd be dead by now."
"You have that little faith in me, darlin'?"
"I got plenty of faith in you, Rayce. That's why I told him you'd be back sooner or later."
He turned his head, following Jazmine's gaze over to a booth occupied by a man in a black suit and tie, his white shirt glowing slightly from the ambient UV light. Not only was he corporate, but his biceps were about the size of Rayce's thighs. The man looked back expectantly.
"Fuck- you couldn't have given me a heads up?" he muttered, wishing he'd kept his ten spot.
"Sorry, hon, but he tips a hell of a lot better than you do. But like I said, you're not dead yet, so don't fuck it up. I'd hate to lose one of my cutest customers." And Jazmine sashayed her pretty ass away without a second glance.
Rayce swore under his breath, knowing that whatever the suit was there for, he wasn't going to be taking 'no' for an answer. After taking a long draft of beer, he slid off his barstool and shook away his nerves before approaching the man's table. When Rayce straightened himself up to his full height, he made for an intimidating figure- though not nearly as intimidating as he'd like.
"You looking for me?" he asked brusquely.
"Yes, Mr. Chance. Please, take a seat."
"Why- you buying me a drink?"
The company man smirked. "If you accept my offer, you can by yourself as many drinks as you want. Take a seat." His voice was firmer this time, but that only made Rayce more defiant.
"How do you know I'm even looking for a job right now?'
"Because you need quite a bit more than a drink, don't you Mr. Chance? I can tell by the tremor in your hand, the way your eyes wander, the sweat on your forehead- classic withdrawal. And I know you've been working shitty, dangerous jobs that should be beneath a man with your skills just so you don't get any worse- am I right?"
It was rhetorical, but he still paused long enough for Rayce to wonder how long they'd been tracking him. And who the hell 'they' were.
"My employer's prepared to pay you quite a bit up front. Enough to get your head clear. You remember what that's like, don't you Mr. Chance?"
Anger rose in his throat like battery acid. This man represented everything Rayce had come to hate about working for a corporation like IllumiGen- everything he'd come to hate about himself and what greed could drive him to do.
Rayce slid into the booth opposite and stretched his legs out to the side in an attitude of ease that he didn't feel. Men like this didn't usually take no for an answer. "I'm listening."
"A shipment of skindolls was recently smuggled into the Freedome blackmarkets. We need to retrieve one of them, and considering how unwelcome corporate entities are in Freedome we thought it would be best to hire someone outside the company. Someone who knows their way around."
"What could be so special about a skindoll?"
The man scowled briefly, obviously not used to impertinent questions. "The reason doesn't concern you. All you need to know is that we're prepared to pay you a hundred thousand DGC to retrieve it on time and without undue attention."
"That's a lot of cash for a piece of ass..."
"It may appear to be an ordinary pleasure doll, but I assure you Mr. Chance, it's not. Which is another reason we chose you- we've heard you're not susceptible to their charms."
"Seems like you've heard a lot about me. I'm flattered," he said before taking a thoughtful sip of beer. "I do have connections in the Freedome, but I'll still need to grease some wheels along the way. I'll need thirty thousand up front."
"That can be arranged."
"And a valid permit to travel between sectors."
"Naturally."
Rayce pretended to consider the offer a moment longer before nodding. "Okay. What's my deadline?"
"You have forty-eight hours." The company man reached into his jacket and produced a syringe. "So- shall we make it official?"
Knowing that he didn't have much of a choice either way, Rayce held out his hand. He didn't look away, nor did he flinch as the company man gave him an injection of intradermal nanocells. In a matter of seconds, the ink infused cells formed a QR code on the inside of his wrist, like a tattoo.
The rest of the cells were traveling to his heart, where they would stay clustered around its chambers for the next forty-eight hours. If he didn't complete the terms of the contract in time and have them extracted, they were programmed to release a lethal toxin into his bloodstream.
After he put the syringe back in his pocket, the company man pulled out a glowing photogram strip and flicked it across the table. Like all high-end skindolls, the one in the photogram was surprisingly lifelike. Beautiful, even, in a subtle way Rayce found appealing, despite his aversion to engineered pussy.
Not all gynoids were made for pleasure- like their male counterparts, they could be weaponized and trained in combat, just as plenty of androids turned tricks- but for the most part, they were walking cunts. Having once worked as a neural-memex designer, Rayce had seen their bodies printed out with bioinks made from "reclaimed" human materials. He'd come to regard these so-called living computers as mechanical corpses, and fucking one seemed like a form of necrophilia.
But still, there was something about this doll that was different. Familiar.
"Does it have a name?" Rayce asked. Skindolls came prenamed for activation purposes. Generic models usually had a stripper name followed by a number- like Bambi498 or Gemma844- but this one looked custom made.
"Yes. Lottie Silverlight."
***
If the Void was where dreams went to slowly burn out into ash, Club Voltage was where they went to blaze brightly and briefly. The thumping music and dizzying visualizations heightened the edginess Rayce had begun to feel; like an itch beneath his fingernails.
He was greeted by a server on rollerblades- or rather, was nearly run into by one. The light from the OLED walls, ceilings and floors cast colored patterns on her pale skin like she was kind another organic projector screen. In her left hand, she was expertly balancing a tray of vials filled with eerily glowing purple liquid, which she held out in offering.
"Wanna Shockwave?" she yelled over the music,
Rayce realized that it wasn't just a trick of the light- her skin was light blue and eyes a vivid fuschia. It was a doll.
"No- I'm here to see Watt. Know where I can find him?" he shouted back.
The hostess-doll just shrugged and skated back into the crowd, her platinum ponytail floating behind her.
Careful not to get carried away by the current, Rayce navigated his way through the throng of frenetic ravers painted in day-glow colors, bare limbs and breasts brushing against him as they thrashed together in a mass of heat and confusion. His eyes had already begun to play tricks on him, distorting his depth perception and leaving holographic afterimages floating in his vision, and the pulsating lights added to the feeling of disorientation.
Rayce managed to reach his destination- a set of stairs that led to the upper level where Watt's office overlooked the club, as well as rooms for his girls to work. Waiting at the bottom was a bouncer who was around seven feet tall and as wide as the stairwell surveying the club from behind reflective lenses. It was a security android with anti-ballistic skin and firearm implants. A machine designed for brute force, most likely with a cranial bomb at the base of its skull as a last resort defense measure.
"Rayce Chance, here to see Watt."
After a tense moment during which Rayce assumed the android was confirming his identity and scanning him for weaponry, it spoke at last.
"Is that really you, Chance? You look like shit, my boy." Watt's words came out of the android's mouth, striking Rayce as both comical and menacing.
"Thanks, I've been getting that a lot lately. So are you going to let me talk to you face to face, or am I going to have to carry on a conversation with this synthetic giant?"
"You know I have to take precautions in my line of work. Especially when I'm dealing with someone in
